Follow My Way
by Secret Agent Smut Girl
Summary: Three little words change the world for Hermione. In order to put it back together she turns to the guidance of someone she'd never expected and forced into a world she never imagined.
1. Prologue

Follow My Way  
  
Prologue- Three Words  
  
***  
  
Flutter girl you don't wanna know what I live  
  
You don't wanna take what I give  
  
Cause I give nothing for free -"Flutter Girl" Chris Cornell  
  
***  
  
She felt as though she had been running forever. The wind in her face was biting, snatching what little breath she still had from her mouth and making her already wild mass of hair even more so. Her legs ached to the point that she could barely feel they were there but she couldn't stop. She knew what was behind her, waiting for her to give into her bodies weakness and fall. In her mind she could see past the grasping hands and through the glinting silver masks and into the dark hearts.  
  
The world buzzed and pulsed with the subtle movements of the night. Everything was wrong. Her vision was sharp through the darkness helping her dodge trees and obstacles. Only luck stood between her and stumbling, only an arm width kept her from capture and her mind was whirling. Nothing made sense but moving, no thoughts passed through her normally logical mind and the world took on a glow of unreality.  
  
As trees around her grew more sparse and far between she could see out over the ground of her destination, it was so close she could almost feel the relief getting there would bring her. They couldn't follow her there; she'd be safe. Safe... but a hand grasped her waist and pulled her flush against a lean, robed body like a vice.  
  
"No," she panted out, though she wasn't even sure if she's spoken out loud. The sound of her own heartbeat filled her ears. Her whole body recoiled as cool metal touched her cheek. Of it's own accord her body began shaking with terror and exhaustion. She was going to die...  
  
Blinking sweat from her eyes, she struggled to open her mouth, to form words but was stopped by a gloved hand grabbing her mouth. " Tsk, tsk, tsk... You didn't put up much of a fight, little mouse." The cold drawling tones were unmistakably female. "Those words don't belong to you. Fortunately I know a way that will make it a... pleasure... to get them back."  
  
Thrusting her down onto the packed dirt of the forest, the Death Eater pressed a booted foot into her stomach to keep her down and laughed. It echoed in her head, the laughter along with the thousands of night sounds around her, her ragged breath and the blood pulsing through her. They all roared in her ears until she couldn't focus, until all she saw above her was the silver of the moon and the metal of the masks.  
  
"We can't have you fighting, mouse," the woman hissed. The silver of the moon was broken by a black line, a thin blotch in her sight that triggered something in her head. Her fingers clawed at the earth but she was only pressed harder into the dirt. Bile rose up in her throat as the earthy smell filtered through her senses, making her aware of the smell of blood coming from within the bodies around her. Her stomach was rolling, gagging on all the smells, the acute pressure on her stomach and her fear.  
  
She was going to vomit but she couldn't tear her eyes from the wand that seemed to block the moon. It was moving slowly downward, the sole object of her attention and suddenly there were no sounds, no sights and no smells. There was nothing but the moving wand. Her whole body tensed and filled with a molten fire, every pore in her body burned and swelled with it. It was pouring outward, moving through her with sharp edges and biting teeth. She was dying... she could feel it. Her eyes closed, blotting out the moon and the wand and she screamed.  
  
Screamed until her breath ran out and her throat was raw and running with blood. She screamed to block out the pain that rushed over her like a wave and the sounds and smells that returned in one sickening instant. She screamed until she thought she would die but as the sound stopped and she fell into blackness she was the only creature in the clearing that was still alive.  
  
***  
  
"Arabella Figg is dead." Albus Dumbledore addressed the room in front of him with a somber tone. He stood behind his great desk holding its surface, as if for support though his posture was not slumped. Across from him the gaunt form of Sirius Black was draped across chair, his clenched hand grasped tightly by that of a shaken Remus Lupin who sat beside him. Minerva McGonagall was sitting tensely on the edge of a chair that had been pushed against the wall on the opposite side of the room from her former students. A hush descended on the room at Dumbledore's last words and was not broken for several moments.  
  
Hovering at the back of the chamber Severus Snape stood with his arms crossed across his lean chest, his dour features moved into an unreadable expression. The announcement had come as no surprise to him, he'd felt it when the old witch had died and his mind had started working at the possibilities. He was the first to speak, his voice measured and low, with the minimal amount of it's usual bite. "Voldemort will have harvested her words then and given them to his Death Eaters. We have lost a lot more than an ally with Arabella's death."  
  
"You cold hearted bastard, it was probably one of your friends that did the killing," Sirius shouted, his eyes narrowed with fury. Only Lupins' firm grip on his arm kept him from rising from his chair. " We've lost human life tonight and all this dodgy git can say is that we've lost words! Amazing."  
  
"Severus is aware of the human loss, Sirius, but merely addresses the deeper problem." Removing his hand from the desk Dumbledore moved to peer out the window behind him, the twinkle returning to his eyes. "I do believe that we need not worry beyond the sadness of a fallen compatriot. It seems her burden has been given to another, more unlikely source."  
  
"What do you mean, Albus?" Minerva asked when the Headmaster made no move to elaborate on his cryptic remarks.  
  
" It seems the ambience is in possession of a brand new Magus, Minerva. I believe we will find a very dazed, though not terribly injured, Hermione Granger just within the forest along with those foolish enough to attack her."  
  
McGonagall rose to her feet abruptly at the mention of one of her Gryffindors and opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by Snapes humorless laughter. " If you were thinking of calling Poppy at this hour to aid Ms. Granger it would only prove to irritate the medi-witch. This situation needs to be handled with something a little more subtle than the failsafe Gryffindor 'charge in and trample' method."  
  
Sweeping toward the door he merely inclined an eyebrow as Sirius tried to rise again and smirked disagreeably. " Black, other than proving my point you will be useless in this endeavor. We're going to need our wits about us if the girl is truly in possession of Arabella's words; she has more power than she can even comprehend."  
  
Remus ran his fingers through his shaggy, flaxen hair and sighed. " She'll be hypersensitive even if she's unconscious; she'd smell the blood on me. It's too close to the full moon."  
  
Snape sneered and looked to the headmaster. "Then Black will assist me, though his blundering could cause more damage then aid." Then he turned and strode soundlessly from the room with Sirius forced to run at his heels, cursing.  
  
*** 


	2. Adjusting to the Familiar

Follow My Way  
1- Adjusting to the Familiar  
  
***  
Do you want me to make a daisy chain for you  
I'm not the one you need  
What do you want from me -"What Do You Want From Me" Pink Floyd  
***  
  
  
Squinting in the sudden brightness of the waking world, Hermione Granger tensed and forced herself to keep her eyes closed. She was overly warm, she could feel the covers of the bed pulled up around her neck, and sweat developing at it's base, but she didn't move. Vaguely she was aware of noises around her: water dripping, boot heels on stone, murmuring voices and a humming. Keeping her breath even she could recognize the voices, both male, and make out what they were saying clearly.  
  
"... it's going to be a shock to her when she awakes, the world will be inside out to her."   
The first voice was even, speaking in soft tones that only Professor Dumbledore could produce. If Dumbledore was speaking she was at Hogwarts and instinctively the tension in her body eased a little. But how had she gotten here when she'd been so sure she'd be dead?  
  
Her train of thought was broken by the second voice biting out a reply. "I'm hardly the most qualified person to help put the world back together for her, Headmaster. Professor McGonagall..."   
  
Snape. There was only one person she knew of who could produce that much acid in normal conversation, though the content of the current conversation was still unknown to her. Reason pointed to the fact that they were discussing her and the circumstances in which she'd been brought to what she'd gathered was the Hospital Wing from the smell alone. How Madam Pomfrey managed to work in the stench of anti-septic and her array of potions was quite beyond her, the only place in the whole castle that had more of a distinct smell was the dungeons. Smiling a little to herself she imagined she wouldn't be quite so calm if her nose had identified her location as there. Also, the light would have tipped her off that she wasn't there.  
  
"She's no longer a student Severus, surely you can put the House business aside and see her as an ally to our cause instead of seeing a Gryffindor." There was humor in the headmaster's voice and she could almost see the sneer that Snape would he wearing at the proposal. A note of amusement entered Dumbledore's voice when he spoke. "Though she's showing some usual Slytherin like tendencies by eavesdropping on us."  
  
Opening her eyes fully she suppressed a laugh as Dumbledore's smile was overshadowed by the sneer she had predicted. The Headmaster stood closest to her next to the bed, his rich robes of crimson were a comforting sight putting her in mind of the Gryffindor common room while his dancing blue eyes put her completely at ease. Bestowing a benevolent smile on Snape, the Headmaster took a seat with little ceremony and grinned as Snape opted to stand still as a statue at the end of the bed.  
  
Turning his attentions back to Hermione, he spoke gently knowing what he had to tell her was going to be hard. "Miss Granger, we were very fortunate to find you when we did. Being unconscious is not the ideal state to be in within the bounds of the forest. "  
  
That sent her mind working, recalling with jarring accuracy what had happened the night before and the implications. "Arabella... They killed her..."  
  
Raising his hand slightly for silence, Dumbledore frowned slightly, his expression suddenly grim. "Her body was indeed recovered from the site of the attack, her death is another point of great sadness in this time. Nothing else was recovered from the site, though the remains of those who had pursued you have been sent to the Ministry in testament to the circumstance of Arabella's death. Unfortunately the nature of their demise left little possibility for identification."  
  
"D-demise?" Horrified, she looked down at her hands. Of course they were dead, her mind mocked her, or they would have found her dead, instead of unconscious. If they had found her at all. Setting her eyes on the stone of the rooms' walls her mind started clicking things into place, considering all that had been said. "There must be some method of identification; even Muggles can ID skeletons or bodies without fingerprints or dental records."  
  
"Be that as it may, Ms. Granger," Snapes voice was as silky and taunting as she remembered it. Glancing up, she saw that his eyes were just as cold. He hadn't changed since she'd seen him last, he was still as tall, dark and greasy as ever. Unfortunately he also still possessed the ability to make her feel like a very stupid child. "I would like to see how they would identify the remains of an individual who's flesh had not only been seared off but whose skull had been fused with metal."  
  
Taking in what she had been told, Hermione tried to focus her eyes on something other than Snapes unreadable face with poor results. Running her shaking hands over her face she tried to rub the blurriness from her eyes. The room around her kept unfocusing, and somewhere she could hear water running. Not running, thundering she realized, grasping her hands over her ears. "What is that horrible noise, where is there water running? I can't tune it out..."  
  
Looking up into the frowning face of the Headmaster and then at the shock on her former Professors', she tentatively moved her hands from her ears trying to focus on the sound that seemed to encompass her hearing. "What is it?", she asked weakly, finding no answers and looking miserable at the failings of her ears.  
  
Looking kindly at her Dumbledore let his eyes stray to the deep frown of the Potions Master before speaking. His voice had the effect of being both captivating and lulling at the same time. "That sound is not something to worry about, on the contrary it's a common noise no louder than it ever is."  
  
Hermione sat straighter in the bed, looking horrified and lost. She looked younger as her lip trembled while she spoke. "Nothing to worry about? It sounds as if we're going to be crashed into by a tidal wave."  
  
"We're not threatened often by tidal waves in this part of Scotland, I'd have thought you'd be bright enough to have reasoned it out better than that." Wrapping his arms tightly around himself, Snape regarded her for a moment before motioning to one of the small, high windows in the room. Through the window she could see the milky mass that was the sky, though her traitorous eyes wouldn't reveal more. " Your worry is for naught as it is only raining."  
  
"What's wrong with me?" she whispered in a small voice as her eyes focused again and she could see the rain clearly. Suddenly she was very cold and a sick feeling rose from the pit of her stomach. Her body was betraying her as her eyes unfocused again, this time from tears. At the end of the bed Snape looked from the shaking girl who'd gone from alarmingly pale to alarmingly flushed in an instant to the headmaster who merely looked back with a serene expression.  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat softly, and handed Hermione a white handkerchief he pulled from his robes. Waiting for the girl to compose herself the Headmaster spoke, smoothing the mass of his white beard. "There is nothing wrong with you, my dear. What is happening to you is merely the after effects of a source of magic you came upon by the event of Mrs. Figg's death."  
  
"You will recover, you're body will be adapting to the new power that is within you and you are young and will be able to take in your stride." Smilingly encouragingly he turned his gaze to Snape. " It is a stroke of luck that there is someone on hand who has had a similar experience to the one you are undergoing now. Professor Snape will be able to help you through this, as I myself will be indisposed for quite awhile. If you will excuse me."  
  
Patting her hand affectionately, Dumbledore walked from the room leaving the now sniffling Hermione with the scowling Potions Master. He was regarding her with a closed expression, his dark eyes looking through her as they often did when explaining potion ingredients or the uses of his art to particularly dismal students. Hermione showed no sign of aknowledging to the frowning man as he began to pace at the end of her bed.  
  
/The world had a way of getting more complicated when you least expect it/, Snape realized and not for the first time. He was unprepared for this particular turn he realized with some distaste as he searched carefully for what to say to the now silent girl in the bed. He had never expected to have to see the blasted Granger girl again since her departure after graduation along side Weasley and Potter. Yet here she was, waiting for him to speak, to explain the most complicated and painful thing he knew.   
  
Stopping his pacing, he folded himself rigidly into the sole chair in the room and assessed the girls pale features. She was adjusting to the foreign magic well, though she'd do well to relax and accept the changes. Her senses were hyper sensitive, her irritation about the barely audible sound of the rain was testament to that. She'd grown up since she'd been a student here, he noted, her incredible thinness attesting to her chosen profession of research under Arabella and her constant travel. She had the look of someone who rarely saw daylight, a condition he was an expert on.  
  
"This has something to do with what Arabella told me before she died." Hermione's soft voice shook him out of his thoughts. She was looking at him now, her clear brown eyes were still tinged with red from crying.   
  
Her words brought a small twist to his lips, she was adapting well enough to let her mind work sense into whatever it could grasp. At times her mind amazed him, though he'd never of admitted it when she was amongst the rabble of students. He waited a moment before answering, a long standing habit that gave him her attention, and an advantage over the conversation.   
  
"You won't be able to recall exactly what she told you unless your senses are in a state of frenzy or tension that would pertain to your demise," he said levelly. "The words she spoke to you have one goal and that is self preservation. They will only leave you if you are dying or under torture or influence your body can not bear."  
  
Hermione's brow creased slightly, her mind working what he said into what she already knew. What Arabella had said to her had been a rush of sounds, disjointed sounds at that. Yet somehow what the older woman had said was causing her senses to sharpen and her head to ache. Snape was right, she couldn't remember what she'd been told. It was eluding her when it should have been clear in her mind.  
  
"As I said you can't quite grasp what you heard, that's the nature of the words Ms. Granger." Snape continued, a sharp edge on his words. "They are words unlike you've heard before, though your ignorance about their existence is due purely to being muggle-born."  
  
She tensed at his words, though her dark glare was diminished by the way she bit her lip in worry. A nervous habit, it would have been more endearing if it hadn't been accompanied by childish anger. Severus Snape had no room for childish emotions in this conversation, and said so with a sneer. "There is no reason for you to be offended, your birth circumstances are true and my approval is not necessary. You are ignorant of important information and the task of explanation has fallen to me."  
  
"I expect you to be attentive to what I have to say and leave emotion out of this." He finished with his usual flourish and finality, leaving the girl with no other option than to grudgingly nod in response.  
  
"I'm sorry Professor," she whispered, her voice wavering slightly as she grasped the blankets pooled in her lap. She was struggling to focus and stay awake under the assault of her body, the tension in her body and tone of her voice gave her away. Stubborn girl, too young to know what was good for her.  
  
"There is no need to apologize," he drawled almost carelessly, knowing that she was tired and more sorry for his reaction than for her words. "I will be able to tell you what you need to know about what is happening to you, but now is not the time. You are not up to the length of time this conversation will take and your senses have not yet adapted."  
  
Giving into the demands of her weakened body she lay back into the starched sheets of the bed and watched Snape rise from his chair to regard her once more through unreadable dark eyes. "When Madam Pomfrey has deemed you well enough we will speak of this again. Rest, you're safe here."  
  
With that cryptic remark he nodded to her slightly and strode from the hospital wing in a flurry of black robes and without a sound. Hermione watched his departure with a mixture of relief, anger, and worry. The man infuriated her, had in fact been doing so for as long as she had known him. Pulling the heavy coverlet up around her shoulders, she closed her traitorous eyes and tried to relax. His attitude toward her wasn't the important thing, she had to remember, what he had to say was.  
  
Even though what Snape had said hadn't explained much, it had planted the ideas for her mind to work its way around. The words she'd been given by Arabella were obviously to blame for her sensory overload, her sense of unease and her ability to sense things around her. The words themselves had to be magic boosters, or even an outside source of magic that complemented her innate ability. Her body's reaction was something that she was going to have to wait out, though. No amount of reasoning was going to ease her discomfort.  
  
Pulling the covers up over her head did nothing to block out the sounds that were no longer deafening, but raising up and down in volume, nor did it block the image of the room she could see in her mind though her eyes were closed. She kept her breathing even and focused her mind on relaxing. She was safe at Hogwarts and that comforted her. Somehow Snape had known that it would have that effect when he'd said it, she realized as her exhaustion began to pull her into sleep.   
  
Curious.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Authors Note: Gold star, a million thanks and eternal love to Zebee for stepping up to the challange of getting my grammer-challenged self into line. You rock.  
  
As for the story... more explanations in the next chapter. Hermione needed her rest.  
  
-Dee 


	3. Sleep, Shins and Secrets

Follow My Way  
2- Sleep, Shins and Secrets  
  
***  
I could make you satisfied in everything you do  
All your 'secret wishes' could right now be coming true  
And be forever with my poison arms around you -"Angeles" Elliot Smith  
***  
  
  
Turning the gilt handles of the shower tap to the correct temperature, Hermione eased herself into the rush of steaming water with relish. Flexing her bare toes against the tile of the shower floor, she closed the stained glass door behind her. Instantly she could feel the tension in her muscles easing under the water pressure and the inevitable hospital wing depression was leaving as well. Turning her face upward she let hot water hit her face and then turned to douse her long hair and let the water massage her scalp.   
  
She'd been let out of the hospital wing the night before under strict orders to stay relaxed and to stay within the castle. Knowing Madam Pomfrey as she did from her numerous visits as a student there was no way she wanted to land herself back there to be tutted at and fussed over all over again. She'd promised to follow her orders and had gone straight to her temporary quarters in the West Tower and plunged straight into a comfortable bed and sleep.  
  
Her body ached all over from prolonged bed-rest. Her muscles were crying for exercise but she was too sore to oblige. There were just too many things in her mind that made her want to crawl back under the covers of her bed, cast a spell on the door and to hibernate for a couple of months. Heavens knew she had to sleep in cave like darkness if she was going to sleep at all. Unfortunately she had things to do other than sleep away her problems.  
  
She had an appointment with Professor Snape when she deemed herself well enough. Picking up the vanilla scented shampoo she favored, she poured a small amount into her palms and lathered it into her hair and let the shower spray hit her chest. The prospect of the meeting wasn't something she was particularly looking forward to seeing as thought all communication tended to be tense and forced.   
  
It was the subject matter that had prompted her to get out of bed at all. Despite her misgivings about the man, she wanted to know what he knew. The idea of filling in the blanks lit the old spark of excitement. If talking with Snape for an afternoon was the price to know, she'd pay it gladly. No matter how vile his company was she respected his mind, and of course whatever she could get out of it.  
  
First thing she had to do was write to Harry and to tell him what had happened. They spoke nearly every day no matter where their respective travels took them and that gave her a sense of security. He teased her often that he didn't make a very good touchstone since he went out to get himself killed on a weekly basis. She's just punched him and told him that if he got himself killed, she'd find a way to kill him again in a more painful way. He always laughed at her when she was being serious.  
  
Ron was another story. She'd stopped talking to him all together when she'd begun to travel with Arabella, though they were still on good terms. They'd always known it would be harder to be close once they left Hogwarts into a world threatened by Voldemort, but his expectations had been clear. He'd gone for a ministry job along side his father and brother and had expected one thing of the women in his life. They were supposed to stay home and safe, out of the way of the war.  
  
Her dreams were not in the home and hearth direction, however and Ron was too pigheaded to see that his being overprotective only drove her away faster. There was nothing for her in sitting around and being protected, waiting for love or settling on being comfortable in one place. It didn't matter to Ron that they had never been romantically involved, he treated her as though as she was glass because she was female.  
  
It had been better that they'd drifted apart. Rinsing the lather from her hair she turned the taps up to make the water hotter. The work she did with Arabella made a difference in the war. At first she'd been relegated to charming muggle areas to deflect or remain unnoticed by the Death Eaters and wizards other than those in the ministry in general. From there she'd worked along side Arabella herself in practical potion making for defense in the Auror's war against the dark wizards.  
  
Three years she had spent with the woman and she'd never ceased to be in awe of her talent. Everything she taught had been vital and useful, and all of her endeavors had been fruitful without too much of a setback. She'd learned more in those short years than in her seven years of classes at Hogwarts, she was sure of it. The shock that she was dead had yet to sink in.  
  
It had been terrible, being ambushed at the edge of Hogwarts grounds. They'd apparated right into it, thinking that their greatest worry would have been the creatures of the Forbidden Forest. How wrong they'd been. Conditioning her hair, she rested her head against the tiles and let the water run over her. It still needed to be hotter but the taps wouldn't turn anymore.   
  
Twisting the taps, she tried to push the ambush out of her mind but all she could see were Arabella's dark eyes as she pulled her close and whispered to her. Then the green light, and the running. That was all she remembered, despite its cliche in the wizarding world. It frustrated her to have been so helpless.   
  
Scrubbing herself red she finished her shower by turning off the taps and stepping out into the steamy bathroom. Wrapping an oversized towel around her securely, she strode into the bedroom and threw herself back into bed despite the damp. She needed a little more confidence before she could face anyone, and hiding under her covers for the day seemed like the best answer.  
  
***  
  
The mid-day sunlight poured through stained glass, throwing vivid patterns of red and green across the stones of the floor. Five windows ran the length of the hall, all but only one throwing the beautiful colors across the stone of the floor. The middle window was latched shut. The glass was enchanted. The random pictures of stars, arrows, hands and men were moving and shifting. Below this abnormality Albus Dumbledore stood, stroking his long white beard in obvious amusement as Severus Snape frowned beside him.  
  
"It's a priceless artifact," Dumbledore said, regarding the silent man who stood before him. "As old as this castle, and just as efficient at hiding itself. As far as I know, and I'm a fairly attentive man, it has never shown itself in my time here."  
  
Snape regarded the enchanted casement with undisguised mistrust. "It should be destroyed, Headmaster. The threat this sort of thing poses is not worth the value, should it fall into the wrong hands..."  
  
Dumbledore, continuing his visual inspection of the changing glass, shook his head in disagreement. "It is safe enough where it is, for now. Summer is just beginning, Severus, and that leaves plenty of time to study the workings of it."  
  
Scowling darkly, Snape strained to keep his voice controlled. "It's a tool of illusion, nothing more. Like the Mirror of Erised it shows no truth. There has to be a reason it hasn't shown itself before now. No good will come of this."  
  
"It won't open. Whatever harm it could cause will be of it's own choosing." Dumbledore spoke with finality, and turning to the younger man he smiled brightly. "Rather disappointing to have something so rare that isn't up for examination. Alas, it will show its intentions in time."  
  
"If you think that's best," Snape muttered grudgingly, and fell into step with the older wizard who cast one last look at the casement before walking away. It wasn't unusual for such objects to turn up at Hogwarts. The castle seemed to have a sense of humor and an agenda of it's own. Some days it was impossible to use the stairways as they would stubbornly change and remain in an inconvenient position for hours. The dungeons never changed, and the precise order met with the approval of the Potions Master.  
  
"I always do what I think is best, Severus. Though I am allowed failing as much as any other man." Choosing the stairwell that would lead to his office, Dumbledore waited patiently for it to settle in the right position before making his way up the stairs. "Seeing as though I have you here for the moment tell me, have you spoken with Ms. Granger yet?"  
  
Unable to stop himself, Snape bit out, "For no more than a moment, though she was too weak to focus on anything but her own inability to cope with her new circumstances."  
  
Dumbledore caught Snape's gaze and gave him a calm look. "You're being too hard on the girl. She's just been through an ordeal that a lesser person would have not gotten through. She's stronger than she looks, Severus."  
  
Snape remained silent, his sour expression unchanging.  
  
Coming to the gargoyle, which hopped aside at the password (Smarties), the Headmaster gave Snape an amused look through half-moon glasses. "Do be careful though, Ms. Granger is famous for a stubbornness that rivals your own Severus. I trust you will do what has to be done."  
  
Seeing him nod, the Headmaster gave him one last smile. "She's been invited to Professor Sprouts dinner this evening, I trust you will be there as well?"  
  
Nodding once to him, Dumbledore seemed satisfied to disappear into his office leaving Snape alone in the hallway. Obviously unhappy at the way the conversation had unfolded he sent an icy glare at the gargoyle that smirked back at him, and strode down the hallway back toward the dungeons.  
  
***  
  
The dinner was so celebrate Chloe Sprouts birthday, an event she celebrated quietly with her colleagues in the gardens she took such pride in. She worked tirelessly on the arrangement of flowerbeds, herb gardens, greenhouses, and growing vines. The blooms ranged from the mundane to the magical and it was rare that she let anyone into her domain, but every summer she hosted a dinner to enjoy the gardens as much as to show off her work.  
  
All the work had paid off, and Hermione said so as Sprout wrapped her in a motherly hug and tutted over her thinness. "Men don't want skinny girls to settle down with, Hermione. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times; they like someone with some meat on their bones. Am I right, Poppy?"  
  
As the motherly medi-witch nodded in agreement and started lecturing, the younger girl was resigned to smiling in acknowledgement and letting her mind wander. She'd been doing better at controlling her senses but the variety of smells from the garden was almost overpowering. Flowers, grass, dirt and the evening smells enveloped her. Before long she was snapped from her trance and led to the simple table covered in white linen to eat.  
  
Fate had smiled down on her for once, her chair was situated between Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey. Across the table from her sat Snape, blocked from view by a rather large, ornate centerpiece made up of White Dusky Lilies that took on the hue of the sky above them. At the moment they were a vivid red, a color that McGonagall deemed lovely causing dark mumbling from across the table. Seated to Snape's left was Dumbledore, who also seemed to enjoy the color of the lilies and was telling the scowling Potions Master so. To his right sat Remus Lupin, who seemed unbothered by the tension beside him, but Hermione attributed that to the lack of moon in the sky.  
  
At the head of table Sprout was continuing her earlier conversation with Poppy, but this time their attention was Remus. Barely able to stifle a laugh when she saw the birthday girl load the younger mans plate with half the salad in the bowl despite his protests, she looked up into the amused eyes of the Headmaster.  
  
"I believe those two are fighting a losing battle. Bread?" Offering the small basket of bread to her, he smiled at her refusal before passing the basket to the blocked figure of Snape. "Have they already had their time at you, my dear?"  
  
Blushing slightly, she nodded. "They gave me the same speech my mother does, it was uncanny."  
  
"It's a patented speech, instinctive to women over a certain age," McGonagall put in with a twinkle in her green eyes as she neatly buttered a piece of bread. "On occasion I've said it myself."  
  
Dumbledore chuckled. "If I might say so, you would do to eat more yourself. Good authority has apparently been spreading that we men like women with good appetites."  
  
"There is nothing wrong with my appetite." The effect of her stern voice was somewhat diminished by the blush that was staining her cheeks and the amused look Dumbledore was giving her. "Really, Albus."  
  
Giggling, Hermione took some salad from the bowl and passed it to her Head of House. "I don't think salad is going to put any of us to Professor Sprout's standards."  
  
"She's a woman of rare sincerity, Ms. Granger. She likes to see her students, present and former, grow up as healthy as her flowers." Winking at her from across the table, he took his share of salad before passing the bowl on. "Severus, do have some of this before you find yourself at the mercy of Poppy and our dear birthday girl."  
  
Behind the lilies, Snape snorted. When he spoke his voice was tinged with disgust. "No amount of meddling by a female could persuade me to eat a plate of grass. Life is too short, and miserable enough without having to force anything green and vile down ones throat when it isn't necessary."  
  
Hermione couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes at the now purpling lilies. Beside her McGonagall changed the subject to the letter she'd received from Professor Flitwick via a large tropical bird. Knowing that she didn't have to contribute to the conversation Hermione contented herself by shoveling the salad from her plate into her mouth, half out of spite and half out of hunger. She was embarrassed when her stomach instantly grumbled for more. Smiling shyly at the medi-witch who grinned at her from the right, she finished off her salad hurriedly. She'd barely eaten in the hospital wing, and seeing her dive into the greens was a relief to the older witch.  
  
Conversation trickled off as the main course was served, a mouth watering plate of summer corn, green beans and blackened chicken. The look of pride on Professor Sprouts face told them all that all the vegetables had been cultivated by her hand, and that the way they devoured them met with her approval.   
When the meal was finished, there was hardly a morsel of food left.  
  
"Chloe, that was amazing," Lupin said with a rakish grin as he set his fork down. " Sirius is going to be disappointed to have missed it. He always raves about your cooking."  
  
Sprout beamed under the praise. "He knows all he has to do is come and visit me, and I'll cook for him any time he wants."  
  
Lupin laughed, amusement making his honeyed eyes brighter. "The last time he tried to visit you, you almost impaled him with a rake. He's a bit wary of the gardens now."  
  
"He should know better than to dig in my gardens, there is so much grass elsewhere..."  
  
"You know as well as I do, that Sirius rarely thinks that far ahead." Shrugging, Lupin sent another charming smile at their hostess.  
  
"He has a unique personality, that somehow serves to protect him from harm," Dumbledore remarked from further down the table.  
  
"Unfortunately his personality rarely protects those around him from harm, but that all falls under his range of notice," Snape replied coldly, and Hermione could well imagine the narrowing of his eyes that always accompanied Sirius' name.  
  
"Ahh, Severus. We all have our faults. There is a muggle saying, something along the lines of 'let he who is without sin cast the first stone '. I believe that is what it is, we're all fallible."  
  
"Some of us accept the fact, while others suffer the delusion that they cannot be hurt. The Potter boy inherited enough of the trait without having Black around to support the delusion."  
  
"You're too harsh on them both, Severus, " Dumbledore chided.  
  
"On the contrary, none of us have been harsh enough. If Potter had been held to the same standard as other students, and those hanging from his coattails as well, they'd be more prepared for what is thrown at them. Unfortunately they were not, and we will be forever holding their hands."  
  
Luckily the centerpiece was there to catch Hermione's glare again, but unfortunately there was nothing beneath the table to block her foot. Snapes yelp of pain let her know that her foot had indeed connected with his shin, and signaled her to excuse herself from the table. Smiling to everyone at the table who she could see, she gave Sprout a hug and said her thanks before departing hurriedly toward the castle without looking back.  
  
Once she reached the castle she slowed her pace and took her time, her frantic need to run replaced instantly with amusement. She'd actually kicked him, the most hated of her former professors and coldest bastard that she'd ever met. It made her giddy to realize she'd done something so immature, ignoring for the moment that she'd have to deal with the consequences soon enough. She couldn't hide from him and their meeting forever, no matter how heavenly it seemed to lie about in her bed all day.  
  
Climbing the stairs inside, intent on the West Tower and the cave of blankets she'd made of the bed, her attention was caught my an illuminated hallway in the otherwise darkened castle. It was an oddity, with all the staff that had remained for the summer still in the garden, the castle knew only to illuminate corridors in use. Letting her curiosity get the better of her, she stopped her climb and ventured into the hallway.  
  
In the dark it was hard to tell one hallway from another, but there was something changed in this one, she was sure of it. Five windows and only one stained glass, she noticed. The castle was quirky, but consistent, and the colored glass called instant attention to itself amongst the other uniform windows. The glass itself was amazing, shifting and changing at will. Something Ron had said long ago came to her mind, about not trusting anything that could think for itself.   
  
She knew she shouldn't touch it, but of their own accord her fingers found the latch and released it. Tentatively she pulled the casement open, wanting to see what made it glow so brightly when the sky was moonless. Wind from the window ruffled her long hair as it swung open, and instantly she realized why it was glowing. Through the window there was a moon.  
  
"Impossible," she managed to whisper before the scene through the window came to life. The focus shifted until she couldn't see the moon anymore but she knew without a doubt that what she was seeing was the ground of Hogwarts at night. /Just not this night, the moon tells me that/, she mentally amended.  
  
The picture scanned the darkened grounds, running through the lush grass until it gave way to the perfection of the gardens. Perfect, lush, green grass was all the picture showed for no more than a heartbeat before the picture flashed and a figure lay on the grass. So pale in comparison to the dark green of the grass, the person was nude, unmistakably female and propped up on elbows to show the completely length of perfect, cream skin. Her breath caught in her throat as the body blurred and the face came into view, her face flushed and smiling with narrowed eyes. Her lips were red, and Hermione could hear her doubles heavy breathing, echoing and loud.  
  
Tearing her eyes from the casement, she glanced around the empty hallway knowing that she was blushing. The last thing she needed was to have an audience to witness her doubles wanton appearance. The appearance that was rapidly giving way to action, she amended as she looked back to the image. Hermione face flushed with heat as the scene shift once again.  
  
The image of the swollen moon above was in contrast to the black night, the stars were little more than pinpricks of light. She was seeing through her doubles eyes, she noted as the moon receded and her doubles gaze was caught by the gardens around her. The flowers were all tightly furled for the night, closed against the moon but there was an oddity in the picture. Vines draped the stone walls that seemed to enclose the area, and on these vines were flowers blooming in the moonlight.  
  
Moonflowers.   
  
White blooms the size of a fist, all straining toward the moon instead of toward the sun. So at odds with nature, but beautiful despite their oddity. What was their importance though? Hermione's mind was racing, putting together what this prophecy was showing her. The moon, the flowers, her blatant nudity in the middle of Hogwarts ground, and obvious arousal. There was no way she was alone, her mind confirmed just as the her double looked away from the flowers and into the eyes her partner.  
  
Black eyes.  
  
Shocked Hermione couldn't rip her eyes from the casement and what it was showing her. Snape, his dark hair falling into his eyes, shirtless and not unappealingly so, was kneeling before her double. Her doubles head falling back as his hands touched her breasts, her own hands pulling her lover down to the grass urgently. Then her face, lips parted and breathe heavy. Hermione's brain barely had time to register what she was seeing before the casement went black.   
  
She couldn't have seen what she thought she had seen shock wasn't allowing her to tear the scene apart like she normally would have. Her heart was beating to fast, her body shaking too much. There had to be a rational explanation for that. There had to be an explanation for why the casement would show her the image of Snape touching her, of her enjoying it. As she took another step back the casement closed itself and fixed it's latch with a bang, Hermione froze as she came in contact with something solid.  
  
"Ms. Granger, it would be best if you told me exactly what that abomination showed you."  
  
Spinning around and raising her eyes to meet his narrowed ones, she wasn't able to keep the blush from her cheeks despite the anger that suddenly welled up in her. Nor was she able to squelch the thought of how passion suited him better than anger. Pushing that thought away, she managed to hiss, "You are constantly sneaking up on me, and scaring me half to death. What that thing showed me is nonsense as well as none of your business."  
  
Intent on turning on her heel and stomping off in a huff, her plan was dashed as his pale hand shot out and grasped her forearm tightly. "There is no way to explain the amount of evil that could come of that casement, it's only remained here due to the Headmasters curiosity. Its prophecy isn't reliable. You would do well to tell me what you saw immediately."  
  
Anger made her grit her teeth and clench her fists. "I already told you it was nonsense, Professor. Nonsense aimed at my weakness. Nothing more."  
  
Snape regarded her silently for a moment as she tried to pull away from him.  
  
"If you wouldn't mind, could you please let go of me?"  
  
Looking at her flushed face, he let go abruptly causing her to stagger back. Narrowing his eyes further at her glare he said softly, "You're lying. You believe what you saw, and right now you're fast little mind is whirling all the possibilities around trying to figure it out. Prophecy has a tendency to become self-fulfilling, Ms. Granger."  
  
At that remark her face turned another shade toward Gryffindor crimson. Her stomached twisted at the prospect of telling him what she had seen and she had the urge to kick him again. When she showed no sign of answering him, Snape made a dismissive motion with his hand and pinned her with a mocking glance. "Apparently common sense isn't part of your intellect, pity. The Headmaster may have decreed that I must tutor you, but that in no way means that I must suffer your presence."  
  
Raising to the bait Hermione made a noise of frustration and stalked from him, shooting him a glare she would never have dared as a student. As her sharp footsteps faded and his senses told him she'd entered the West Tower, only then did he dare look at the locked casement. Still shining with it's own light, the pictures shifted and changed as though it had never been opened. Yet it had, and at his arrival in the hall it had been showing the girl her own image in the throes of ecstasy.  
  
When he'd arrived she'd looked at him, guilty with only her anger stopping her from fleeing. It was an interesting puzzle. Her blush at his appearance only made it that much more curious. The fact remained that magic casements had agendas of their own and whatever it had shown the girl had been shown for a reason. Time would tell, but before then the Headmaster would have to be informed.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Authors Note: Slow but sure, right? I hope nothing is glaringly wrong with this part, it took forever and was edited only by myself (and it's not that I don't think I do things wrong, I just have tunnel vision. Never notice anything.) Sorry about butchering cannon phrases and bible quotes! (Thanks to sev's lover for correcting the bible quote ^_^ )  
  
Next part we get more answers and even more plot, yay! Thanks for hanging in there.  
  
-Dee 


	4. Distractions

Follow My Way  
3- Distraction  
  
***  
"And hope in those squeaky clean eyes  
You'll get chilly receptions everywhere you go  
Blinded with desire - guess the season is on" -"Teenage Wildlife" David Bowie  
***  
  
  
  
She was running again, her heart beating painfully in her chest. Behind her someone was in pursuit, their footsteps clumsier than hers. Her footsteps made no sounds against the forest floor, nor did they on the grass as she burst onto Hogwarts grounds.  
  
Bare feet touched the dew touched grass sending a chill through her and a smile to her lips. There was no fear as she glanced over her shoulder at the man behind her, it only caused her smile to widen. There was challenge in his gaze, he exuded arrogance that his longer strides would overcome her in the end. Hermione struggled to hold in her laughter. Surely he knew she wasn't trying to escape him?  
  
Rounding the edge of the lake she changed their course toward the distant greenhouses and the sleeping gardens. A slight breeze stirred, fanning the runners with balmy air and ruffling the already short fabric of Hermione's skirt. She was closing in on her destination, well ahead of him when the moon caught her eye.  
  
Beautiful.  
  
The luminous disc was just short of full, but it dominated the sky and put the millions of tiny stars to shame. So familiar the moon looked, she realized as she came to the iron gate of the closed garden. Pushing the thought from her mind as she pushed the barred gate open and walked through. The moon could never live up to the pure earthy beauty of what was laid out before her.  
  
The high stone walls were completely covered with vines, most full of tightly closed roses in the darkest of colors. The perfect lawn wasn't marred with a walkway, but a natural one was created by artfully placed fruit-trees, each perfectly kept and heavy with their seasonal burden. Awe stopped her in her tracks and with that she lost her advantage. Instantly sure hands were on her waist and warm breath was on her neck.  
  
"20 Points from Gryffindor, Ms. Granger," the silky voice purred close to her ear. "I do believe that you wanted to be caught."  
  
Turning so that she faced him, Hermione looked up into his dark eyes. "Was there ever any question, Proffessor?"  
  
The growl that escaped his throat made her breath catch in her throat. Before she could speak again his mouth roughly claimed hers, while his cool hands found their way to her bare back. Her toes dug into the grass as one hand gripped her hips and lowered her down onto the grass. With a subtle push of her powers they both found themselves unclothed and exposed to the other.  
  
Breaking the kiss, Snape inclined an eyebrow at the girl beneath him. "You're a very presumptous girl, using your magic in such a way."   
  
Smiling cattily, Hermione slowley shifted her hips beneath him. "I wouldn't call it presumptous... more like impatient?"  
  
"Indeed," he drawled in response, stopping her hip movement with one long fingered hand. Biting her lip Hermione kept his gaze as his fingers caressed her hip before fanning then across her pelvic bone. Tensing her toes, she tried not to make a sound as he pressed one finger into the wetness between her thighs. "Patience is a virtue, didn't your mother ever teach that?"  
  
"No," she murmmered as he claimed her mouth with another searing kiss, pressing her into the damp grass. Grasping his shoulders as he skillfuly teased her with his tongue and fingers, she let out a broken moan into his mouth. Somewhere in the back of her brain something was screaming at her to stop, that what she was doing was wrong and that she needed to think. It was impossible to think with the way he was touching her, but she couldn't shake the feeling of dread.  
  
With resolve she opened her eyes, ready to voice her worry… and caught sight of the high ceiling above her. The moon had vanished along with the garden, the grass and.... Snape. With a sight she jerked the heavy blankets up over her head and yelled, "You're losing your mind, Granger."  
  
It had all been a dream, a very realistic dream. Her body was humming with the desire the images had caused, she was painfully aware of the way her nightshirt rubbed across her chest with each breath. Reaching a hand down into her panties she found that she was very wet, and sensitive to the touch. It was all her over-active imaginations fault. Her imagination, that blasted casement, and if Snape was her dream lover it had to be chalked up to extreme sexual repression.   
  
Extreme.  
  
Why else would her dream lover manifest itself as Severus Snape, oily git and bane of her teenaged existence? It was insanity, there was no other explanation for it. Yet as she trudged out of bed to run herself a cold shower, she wasn't able to push the images she's dreamt out of her mind.   
  
***  
Fawkes coughed pathetically as the last feather fell from his tail usually majestic tail, the final insult of a burning day. Contrary to the Phoenix's downcast appearance, the room was brightly lit and comfortable. The Headmaster sat at his cluttered desk regarding the younger professor with ill-concealed enjoyment.  
  
"So the casement opened for Ms. Granger, that is a surprise." Dumbledore took in this information with interest. "In fact I tried once again to open the fickle object this morning, to no avail. It appears to be very selective with its prophecy."  
  
Across the desk Snape was frowning darkly, not half as amused as the headmaster with the events of the previous evening. "Did you happen to see the manner of the prophecy, Severus?"  
  
Snape snorted.  
  
"Unfortunately, the casement snapped closed before I was able to discern the things intent. The girl was even less forthcoming."  
  
The headmaster's eyes lit up to twinkle merrily. "Perhaps she will talk about it, now that she's had time to digest the information. Am I correct in assuming that you'll be meeting her this afternoon?"  
  
Snape nodded, a pained look coming to his face. "I sent her a message this morning which was promptly returned, stating that she would indeed meet me at midday "  
  
"Perhaps you should take her to the gardens," Dumbledore said, picking a lemon drop from the crystal dish on his desk. The dish was a permanent accessory on the desk, self-refilling no doubt. Perfect for the grinning old man who clearly knew something he was withholding.  
  
Forcing a stiff smile he regarded the headmasters smiling eyes. "Hardly, I spent my required time in Sprouts domain last night."   
  
"She means well in her nutrition advice, Severus," he chided. "You could show Miss Granger the fruit trees, I dare say she's never seen much more than the greenhouses. A shame, really."  
  
/Show her the fruit trees and see the image of her writhing euphorically on the grass superimposed/  
  
"She can ask Sprout for a tour any day she wants, there are more pressing matters at hand." Meeting the elder mans eyes, Snape spoke in a low tone. "Arabella was a powerful Magus, Albus. To allow Miss Granger to remain ignorant of the commodity she possesses veritably signs her life away."  
  
"She is not one to give up without a fight. No, I think Miss Granger will be an apt pupil as is her way."  
  
A dark scowl crept across Snape's face. "That, is exactly what I dread."  
  
Behind them the Headmasters familiar let out the last of its breath and burst unceremoniously into flames.  
  
***  
  
Outside, the summer sun filled the air with lazy warmth. Turning her face toward the sun she resembled a spring flower aching for light. The lawn that stretched from the huge front door of the castle was empty of people and the only noise to be heard was the rush of the gentle breeze through the trees.  
  
Framed in the open door, Severus Snape sized up the girl sitting on the lawn in anticipation of the conversation to come. She looked remarkably recovered since the last time he had spoken to her, not angry or blushing or assaulting his person. Hermione didn't seem to notice him at all, she sat with her legs folded under her and her back to him. In stark contrast to his severe black summer robes she wore a Muggle summer-dress of crimson and gold flowers. How very subconsciously Gryffindor.  
  
Severus approached her leisurely, his steps on the grass were silent and he reached her side without attracting her attention. She was lost in thought, he realized as he saw her calm expression. Her eyes were closed against the light and a small smile was curving her lips. Clearing his throat with forced ire at finding her so completely wrapped up in her own mind; he was rewarded with a widening of her eyes and a blush as she pulled herself to her feet.  
  
"How did you sneak up on me like that, I didn't sense your presence at all." Her voice was more confident than he remembered. "I didn't last night, either."  
  
Motioning for her to join him in walking, Severus led her out onto the grounds. "My need for stealth should be apparent, Ms. Granger, though my means are not out of the ordinary." Then with the razor edge, 'You could remain undetected in a similar way if you focused your mind more."  
  
Hermione fell into step easily with her long legged stride. She was barefoot, he noticed as the breeze stirred the long skirt of her dress. Turning his gaze skyward, he narrowed his eyes against the brightness of the sun and listened as she spoke.  
  
"The more I turn what I've gathered around in my head, the more I feel as though I'm missing a strategic foundation piece of the puzzle." The breeze pushed her waist length hair around with invisible fingers, she paused long enough to tie it back before she continued, her mind clearly running faster than her mouth. "These words instantly bond with the person who they are given to, but what's the limit? What stops everyone from going around and forcing them out to make other more powerful? Or creating an army of magically enhanced soldiers?"  
  
"You have the uncanny ability to pick through scarce information and make coherent worries, Miss Granger," he mused in an unnerving tone. Hermione blushed slightly under the scrutiny of his dark eyes, curious. The blush rarely left her cheeks. "You've hit on a major issue of worry in your thinking, however speaking of that would be getting ahead of myself. The foundation of your knowledge in this matter, as you put it, is missing a substantial amount."  
  
For once he had the distinct impression that he had a one up on her, giving him no small amount of satisfaction.  
  
"The first thing you should know is that there is a limit of four words that a person can know."  
  
Hermione nodded absently and asked, "What if a person learns more?"  
  
"That is a situation that has not arisen for centuries, Miss Granger. To know four words is to know ultimate power, whereas five would be to burn. The human body can not withstand the amount of power held in more than four words."  
  
Pausing, his voice took on the tone of a lecturer. "The magic would destroy the body from the inside out, starting with the mental capacity. Depending on the word this process of combustion could occur in an instant or slowly over a period of days. Yet, the end result is always the same."  
  
"What about non-humans?" she ventured after a moment of thought.   
  
Severus nodded, his expression never changing from his ever-present frown. "It's the same for all with the capability for magic. Elves, trolls, and goblins… the end result is the same. Their bodies are all destroyed by the magic given time."  
  
"It would take something more than the body, then."   
  
"That is beyond the grasp of even the most accomplished wizard. The words themselves vary in power and those who seek them learn to discern the weak from the strong. This can only be found out by careful tracing of word origins, many ancients made it their life work."  
  
Coming to the lake they stopped and admired the calm water in silence. Savoring the slight breeze that came off the water on his face, Snape watched as Hermione bit her lip idly. A weak habit, akin to biting ones nails. He could practically hear her thinking and formulating a new onslaught of questions. It was irritatingly reminiscent of her days seated three rows back in the dungeon. He wondered if she knew how threatening it could be to know that someone could click together clues so easily when others spent their entire lives in making the same connections.  
  
"Ms. Granger, you're going to give yourself a headache if you keep up on that path," he said sharply and without humor, getting her attention immediately. "The origins of the words are unknown and the squid is not going to toss you the answers, no matter how hard you look at the water. The facts might yield some answers if looked at correctly, but it's a puzzle that hundreds have attempted. All have failed.  
  
Seeing her eyes harden he knew she'd taken his words for what they were, a challenge to her intellect. Raising her nose slightly she graced him with a frosty look worthy of Minerva McGonagall. "You've yet to tell me all the facts."  
  
Lowering his voice he spoke in a cold tone. "Your attention span is hardly conductive to any information, though if you could make an effort to listen I will tell you what you need to know. Unless you think listening isn't necessary?"  
  
Rewarded with another glare, Snape continued as though he was speaking to a wayward first year. "Single words are only comprised of a certain amount of power, thus the effect they have when received is to accentuate a talent or latent ability. Though there are no books on this subject matter there is documentation of Muggles who come into the possession of a word and then find themselves to have a talent for singing, or to charm people into trusting them."  
  
"Though hardly dangerous many words have died out when ignorance led their owners to be burned or hung despite the fact that they possessed nothing but a talent." Sneering he said, "No Muggle has possessed more than a single word in three centuries. Ability is heightened past simple talent with a second word, they in essence become a genius for anything they put their mind to."  
  
Overhead clouds covered the sun, casting dark shadows across the grass and sending a chill through Hermione. Idly rubbing her arm, she tried not to slouch and give Snape the satisfaction of tearing her down again. The good mood the sun had cast on her cold-shower-chilled skin was fading fast. In its place was a smoldering dislike for the disagreeable potions master, undermined by the constant distraction of her dream.   
  
The casements dream.  
  
If they walked any further they'd be veering toward the gardens, something that she wasn't willing to deal with at this point. The gardens, his proximity, his voice… She was acutely aware of how sexy his voice would be when he wasn't sneering at her, which shouldn't truly be a distraction since Snape had two modes. Sneer and… well sneer… No, super-bastard-sneer.   
  
Her attention was drifting and from the glare he sent her it was obvious that he was as unhappy with the situation. /Good/, she thought with some satisfaction as he motioned her back toward the school with a mocking motion.   
  
"Seeing as though you're attentions have waned we'll save this for another day," he pronounced with an arctic chill. "Unless you have no further need of tutoring on this topic?"  
  
"There are no books on the subject, how else would I gather what I need to know?" She asked, genuine confusion marring her features. Biting back a bark of laughter, Snape gave the girl a hard look until she had the decency to blush. Blush harder, that is.  
  
"Oh," she said, sheepish as his meaning dawned on her.   
  
/Stupid arse, I should know better than to expect anything but sarcasm. Damn distracting psyche./  
  
"If you're quite finished, I have other matters that need my attention." With a curt nod Snape turned to leave her at the entrance, but was stopped as she reached out and brushed her hand against the fabric of his sleeve.  
  
Turning, he looked at her questioningly and a bit annoyed. Seeing that she had his attention, Hermione smiled softly, pushing her distractions aside. "Thank you… for your time Professor.'  
  
Something akin to confusion flashed through his eyes as he searched her face, though it was instantly replaced with the stoic mask that seemed to be an essential part of the man. Then with another nod, he said, "You're welcome" before disappearing into the castle.  
  
Hermione smiled slightly to herself as she wandered back toward the lake. The heat in her cheeks had receded for the first time since she'd woken up, and found herself dreaming about her former teacher. Her mind had other things to dissect now that she had the base knowledge that she needed to assimilate what was happening to her.  
  
Words. Talents. Casements. Prophecies. Moonflowers. Sex dreams about a raving bastard…  
  
Pushing that last thought as far to the back of her mind as she could, something that Ron had said to her a long time ago floated to the surface.   
  
"Life is like a bludger," he said with more than a little reverence, while Harry was healing up in the hospital wing from an adventure gone wrong. "When you're just minding your business it's likely to fly by and smack you in the head."  
  
Quidditch wisdom that actually applied to life. She'd apparently gotten too much sun.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
Authors Note: Sorry, that took ages! Been distracted by working full time this summer, and between working and sleeping there just has not been any energy for much else. So after the wait you really don't get much action, just more build up. Please don't beat me!  
  
Again, this was only edited by myself (Thanks to Leelee for giving me the go, anyway). So if anything is grossly wrong, throw rocks. Next part we get some movement, promise!  
  
Thanks for reading!  
  
-Dee 


	5. Conversation Piece

Follow My Way  
  
4- Conversation Piece  
  
***  
  
"You know I can't sleep, I can't stop my brain  
  
You know it's three weeks, I'm going insane  
  
You know I'd give you everything I've got  
  
for a little peace of mind" -'I'm So Tired' The Beatles  
  
***  
  
There were no books on the subject, as she had pointed out to Snape during their meeting, and that fact was driving her slowly mad. Somehow, her inability to run to the library was making her feel more helpless than her actual situation was. She could well imagine the comments Harry and Ron would throw at her if they could see her at such a loss. Chances were that they'd change their tune if they knew that her only alternative source of information was in their much hated former Potions Master. That thought was almost enough to please her.  
  
Pointless as she knew the activity would turn out to be, Hermione had gotten up early and ensconced herself amongst the shelves of the schools' library. She hadn't been back since her time as a student, but it was a comforting place. The air was heavy with dust and silence, wondrous silence that she hadn't been able to even imagine in her wildest dreams since the nightmare in the forest. The deserted room appealed to her. As hard as it was to hide from her own thoughts, it was even harder to hide to from other peoples'. If she got too close she could hear the hum of their thoughts; she didn't dare try to make out the words. The hum was much like the faint hum that was came from the restricted section if you got too close, a hum that promised information, dark and light, if she'd only come closer and pour through the pages.  
  
Reading itself bored her. There was no challenge in the act. She finished books at an astronomical pace and retained the knowledge. Three words made you a master of anything you set your mind to so there was no challenge in anything. Everything was ruined and no one would explain why. Snape had given her a taste of the information she sought in his brief tutorial, but he was holding back. He could hardly blame her for her lack of attention span when everything seemed to demand her scrutiny all at once. He said she could shut it off, but sleep seemed to be the only escape she had at her disposal. Even then she was plagued by a different sort of chaos.  
  
Dreams and reality were defiantly fighting it out to see who could be more bizarre.  
  
The cherry on top of the very fucked up sundae was the prophecy of the magic casement. The old Hermione Granger would have rolled her eyes at the idea of prophecy in any form. Hadn't her brief stint in Trelawneys class proven that? Now something she saw, in a chance encounter in one of the many, ever changing corridors of Hogwarts was depriving her of the restful sleep she needed. The library had proven useful in finding information on the casement. Unfortunately, all the information she'd been able to find about charmed casements had stressed one thing, avoidance at all costs. Hardly helpful once you blundered across one.  
  
Why couldn't the blasted thing have opened for Professor Dumbledore? She imagined it would have shown him something useful or at least a hell of a lot more plausible than a naked romp on the grass with Severus Snape. She quickly put that thought out of her mind before her mind assimilated it for a new twist on an already disturbing dream.  
  
In the hallway that night Snape had said that the prophecy would become self-fulfilling. What she wanted to know was, exactly how much of the casements peep show had he seen? It was one thing to be a voyeur, however accidentally, to your own prophesized sex life. It was a whole other level of disturbing when the voyeur was a former professor. /Actually, it was also part of his prophesized sex life/, the traitorous part of her mind reminded her.  
  
She was becoming seriously close to that nervous breakdown Harry had been predicting since they were eleven.  
  
The library door opened with a barely audible squeak and soft footsteps broke the silence of the room. The footsteps were confident and precise. Hermione didn't have to turn to recognize who was approaching, the hum of thought that assailed her senses held a familiar waspishness. Madame Pince had been a familiar fixture in the library when it had been her second home during her school days and it seemed that the absent librarian was just returning from her summer break.  
  
Replacing the books she'd been debating back to their places on the shelves, Hermione approached the hassled looking woman. Hassled seemed to be her permanent expression, but Ron Weasley had once drunkenly confessed that if she smiled more she'd be a very handsome woman. The sight of her emerging from the stacks of books earned an exasperated sigh, but Hermione knew that it was due more to amusement than to annoyance. "Good afternoon, Madam Pince."  
  
Madam Pince dropped several heavy books onto her desk with a thump. She regarded Hermione with an affectionate smile and a sharp comment. "It was rather naïve of me to think I was through with you, and here you are in my domain before I even return from term. I thought you'd left us for higher forms of education, Ms. Granger."  
  
Hermione grinned. "I've missed our little chats. I completed my turn as a student at University, ages ago. Who keeps you company at all hours of the day now that I'm not here?"  
  
"Albus gifted me with a particularly snarky parrot, completely inappropriate for a library. Said I needed a companion, can you imagine? That man is most incorrigible." Pursing her lips in displeasure, the librarian took a seat at her desk and began to rummage through her shoulder bag.  
  
Hermione sometimes entertained the notion that she'd picked up her scatterbrained behavior due to sheer proximity to Hogwarts' Librarian. Despite her amusement at the scene, curiosity got the better of her. "What did you do with the parrot?"  
  
"What?" She looked up, startled, as though she'd forgotten she wasn't alone in the library. Hermione had to bite her lip from giggling in a most impertinent manner. "Oh, that blasted bird. Minerva transfigured him into a nice name-plate for me."  
  
The nameplate in question was perched on the desk. The sight of it let lose the laughter that Hermione had been trying to repress. "I always thought it was terribly cruel, turning helpless animals into water goblets and pincushions."  
  
That earned her an uncharacteristic snort from the librarian. "That was the more human option, my first notion was to see if the dissection of the pest would yield anything that would be of use in the potions lab."  
  
"I'm glad you chose what you did, then."  
  
Madam Pince smirked in a very Slytherin manner. "It wasn't a choice, Ms. Granger. I merely encountered Minerva first."  
  
"That wasn't sheer chance, my dear." The amused voice of the Headmaster put in from the doorway. Looking characteristically jovial in summer robes of rich burgundy, he graced them both with a bright smile. It was very easy to be taken in by the Headmasters good cheer.  
  
Madam Pinch looked momentarily guilty before regaining her no-nonsense demeanor. "Good afternoon, Albus."  
  
Hermione grinned as the Headmaster moved to pick up the parrot-come- nameplate and polish the dust off. "Lovely as always to see you, Irma. I trust your holidays were well spent?"  
  
"Of course, I visited my brother as you well know." Finally giving up on her handbag, she patted her hair in annoyance only to come up with the pen she'd been searching for. "This place has become a complete tip while I was away. My work is never done."  
  
Dumbledore glanced around the impeccably maintained, if a little dusty, library. "We won't keep you from your work, though if you need any assistance you need only ask."  
  
Madam Pince muttered something indecipherable from the depths of one of her drawers. Seeing that as a dismissal, Dumbledore offered Hermione his arm with twinkling eyes. "Seeing as though you've missed lunch, would you care for some tea? It's outstanding, I assure you, grown by our very own Professor Sprout in her private greenhouses."  
  
Shooting one last look at the librarian, who was now muttering to herself as she wrote furiously on some parchment, Hermione took the offered arm. "Tea sounds lovely."  
  
"Excellent." Steering them out of the library and towards his office, he said, "Tea and conversation is just the thing. One can only hide in the library for so long."  
  
Glancing down at the guilty girl on his arm, the Headmaster gave her a conspiratorial wink. "Madam Pince is very protective of her domain. You wouldn't want to be keeping that lovely bird company as an inkwell, or some such thing. Now, that would be a shame."  
  
***  
  
Tea, it turned out, was just the thing. As a student the very idea of being summoned to the Headmasters office would have turned her stomach to butterflies. As an adult the room was very soothing, though it held many wonders and treasures that perked the interests of the child in her. Amongst them there was a foe glass in a gilded frame, a shelf that held a tiny rememberall cradled in the lap of a serene looking Japanese doll, varied glass containers and what looked like a glass Coke bottle. Portraits of past Headmasters were dozing in their frames, though former Headmaster Dippet seemed to be playing Chinese-checkers with the occupant of the frame next to his. Professor Dippet was losing horribly.  
  
"Hasn't won a game in my tenure here, to the best of my knowledge. His persistence, along with his stubbornness, keeps him playing despite."  
  
Dumbledores' voice caught her wandering attention, turning her gaze back to him she smiled. " I don't imagine there is much to do as a portrait, he may break his streak yet."  
  
"Perhaps his patience will be rewarded." Pouring himself another cup of tea from the beautiful blue-willow teapot, he offered to refill her glass as well but she waved him off. With a wistful look he picked up his teacup. "It's not often I can lure anyone away to have proper tea during these summer months, the faculty scatters to the wind the same way the students do. I must admit I am fond of having the school bustling with students and activity, especially in times like the one upon us."  
  
"It must be hard sending the students off with the threat of violence, especially to the muggle-borns." Hermione sipped her tea and sent a small smile to Fawkes who was settled on his perch, seemingly asleep. "Have there been any attacks since..."  
  
Try as she might, she couldn't say Arabellas' name. It was still hard to believe that her mentor was dead and gone to her. Putting her shaking teacup back on the saucer, tears prickled in her eyes. A weight on her shoulder told her that Fawkes was offering his comfort in the only way he knew how, curling around her neck and nuzzling her chin. Forcing a wavering smile, Hermione looked at the Headmaster helplessly. "I'm sorry, tears aren't very helpful in times like these but I seem to be close to them all the time."  
  
The wistful expression on Dumbledores' face turned sad, making him look as old as his years. "My dear, never forget the healing quality of tears. That you've been holding up as you have been is a testament to your strength. Arabella would be proud of you."  
  
"Some strength, all I do is cry and sit around confused." Blinking back tears, she stroked Fawkes' feathered head. "I don't understand what is happening to me, I don't even know how to go about understanding. It's so frustrating."  
  
The twinkle was back in the Headmasters' eyes when she looked up, making her feel guilty to burden him in such a way. Sniffing and squaring her shoulders, she picked her teacup back up. "I shouldn't say that, giving into self-pity isn't going to solve anything. Professor Snape is being as helpful as I've ever seen him be, in the absence of books I should be asking him. He seems to reluctant to talk to me, not that I can blame him."  
  
"The power you've been given is not an easy thing to explain, even for trained Professors and humble Headmasters alike. In a sense it can be painful to explain, as the words are secretive and also in that the way one receives them is usually linked to death. Death is not something easily dealt with, memories can be painful when you are not yet ready to confront them."  
  
"How did you come by your words?" Hermione asked, instantly regretting her usual lack of tact. Fortunately, the Headmaster didn't look bothered. Instead he looked fondly up at the portraits of Headmasters past. "Two of them came with the job, much like this very office or these charming teacups. The others are a story in themselves, my dear. I haven't been in this school forever as students seem to think and Nicholas and I, Nicholas Flamel that is, we were caught up in our fair share of Gryffindor adventures around the world."  
  
"Nicholas Flamel?" Hermione looked up from her tea, surprised despite herself. "I knew you worked with him on the uses of Dragons Blood, but I never imagined... That is, I am sure you have had adventures."  
  
Dumbledore gave her a bright smile, bordering on boyish. The idea of a young Dumbledore, steeped in adventure and intrigue, almost made her choke on her tea. Until her return to Hogwarts she'd never considered any of her Professor as people outside of the school. There was so much she didn't know about the people she'd looked up to as a student. It was a harsh blow to realize that life wasn't as black and white as she'd imagined.  
  
"Your incredulity makes me feel like a very old man, indeed." Seeing her guilty blush, he held up his hand with a smile. "No apology necessary. Contrary to what many students believe, I was young once though that was a long time ago. While my adventure days are far past, there is still much for me to accomplish in my position at this school. There have been no attacks since the loss of Arabella, but we must stay, in the words of the venerable Alastor Moody, ever vigilant."  
  
With a swish of his tail, Fawkes took leave of Hermiones' shoulder and settled back on his perch without a sound. It occurred to her that the expanse of the eclectic office was soothing in much the way the library had been, despite the wizarding gadgets that littered every available surface. It was calming to not have to deal with chaotic sensory information and after a moment the reason for the calm dawned on her. "Your office is warded to keep all noise out, how can that be? Wards hum is such a distracting way."  
  
"Sorcerers wards lack the signature hum of wizarding wards, making them prefect for hiding things small as a doorway or larger than Hogwarts. The wards on the school function in much the same way, but you were only partially right as to purpose." Dumbledore wore his typical enigmatic smile. "Noise is something you can adapt to, it is within your capabilities to adjust to hear the constant natter of the world only when you need to. I find that it comes in quite handy when you are responsible for scores of children who are capable of any kind of mischief, and who often act on it. The wonder is that the wards produce quite the opposite effect, in that they keep noise in."  
  
"No one can eavesdrop on what goes on here." Hermione was impressed. "I never thought of it that way."  
  
"The information that's eluding you will be made clear soon, my dear. Don't give up on Severus, his council will be most helpful. Now, I believe I have monopolized your time enough for one day. It is beautiful outside, you shouldn't waste such a day indoors." Smiling at her, Dumbledore placed his teacup on the desk and rose to see her out.  
  
Hermione followed suit, idly noting that Headmaster Dippet was taking his frustrations out on the checkerboard in his frame. Dumbledore smiled mirthfully up at the spectacle. "It seems today was not the day for him to break his streak. Perhaps next time."  
  
She couldn't help but smile. "Perhaps. Thank you for the tea, Headmaster."  
  
Walking out of the blessed calm of the office and down the spiral staircase, Hermione digested the afternoons' events. First of all she was going to have to ask Snape for another meeting, despite all her misgivings about the idea. If Dumbledore deemed him to be the best person to help her, she was going to pursue him. Secondly, she was going to have to test this new power of hers. Trying out those wards that might ensure her some amount of concentration in her room sounded like just the thing.  
  
She sincerely hoped that the school would remain intact throughout the endeavor.  
  
***  
  
Hermione was pleased with herself. With some intense concentration she'd been able to construct the wards in her rooms to her liking. It had taken more physical strength than any other magic she'd tried before. From the effort she felt gritty and worn thin, but her efforts had paid off. The only noises in the room were now noises that were being created in the room. She'd been painstaking in making sure there were no wizarding implements present, so that there was nothing left to distract her.  
  
Along with euphoria of strength and success came the inevitable vulnerable crash. Bringing her hands up to massage her temples, she winced at the pressure that nearly made her eyes cross. Unfortunately in the process of warding the room to her liking she'd given herself a headache of astronomical proportions. Vaguely, behind the pain and exhaustion of her headache, she felt that she was not alone.  
  
"You're lucky all you gave yourself was a headache, with the amount of power you were pushing around." Snapes' silky purr announced his presence, but Hermione was too knackered to be affronted by his invasion of her rooms. She merely looked up at him from the chair she was presently slouched in, her hands still cradling her temples. He was scowling and looking more unpleasant than normal. "If this school were not warded we would have had every Death Eater in Britain swooping down upon us, you silly girl."  
  
"It is warded, though." Her voice sounded smaller and more pathetic than she'd intended.  
  
Snape did not look impressed, his irritated scowl deepened further at her words. Couldn't he see that she was perilously close to throwing up on his shoes? Apparently he could. From the depths of his robes he produced a much needed headache potion, which she took thankfully. With the pain gone she was just exhausted, hardly on equal footing for any encounter with Snape. Trying to gather her wits together, she shot Snape a baleful look and offered him a seat, which he took with his usual dramatic sweeping motion.  
  
Hermione regarded Snape with a look not unlike a lioness coming up on prey. "The Headmaster told me that it could be done and that the school was warded. I don't understand how I could have made enough noise to bring you stalking up from the dungeons."  
  
"Ms. Granger, once again your mind had jumped ten steps ahead and completely missed the logical begging." Snape settled himself in the chair, an overstuffed concoction of oriental crimson silk, and gave her the look he usual reserved for students who melted cauldrons. "It looks as though I am going to have to deliver a tutorial on things that should already be quite apparent. Perhaps you should make tea, make this as pleasant as is possible in such unpleasant circumstances."  
  
Hermione wasn't sure if she should be insulted, a thought she didn't pursue as it was in her best interests to listen to what he had to say. Uncharacteristically she set about making tea without a word, while Snape looked dispassionately around the room in silence. Only when she'd presented him with a teacup and saucer, did he speak. "Tell me, how exactly did your abilities manifest? What sort of incident occurred to your younger self that can now be explained away as magic?"  
  
Not trusting her stomach after her previous nausea, Hermione decided against taking tea herself and curled her feet up beneath her on the chair. She thought back, trying to remember the details of the event. "I remember, I was so mad at my Mum. She insisted on these terrible French lessons when all the other girls were taking piano lessons, or ballet. She wouldn't let me eat dinner until I'd read the designated chapter my tutor left. So I glared at the book, set to have a nasty row with my mother or at least starve myself to make a point. Anyway, I sort of stared through the book."  
  
"You saw through the book?" Snape asked, the flicker of amusement on his face was enough to make her blush.  
  
She shook her head. "Not exactly. I sort of burned through the book, straight through. The pages smoked and everything."  
  
"Natural, unrestrained magic is unpredictable when provoked," Snape said in a tone well used on pupils in the past. In his lap he cradled the teacup, but didn't drink from it. "The sheer amount of raw power that released in those instances, leaves a signature like a beacon in the vibrations that are produced. The wards you so recklessly put up are against such vibrations from the signatures left by magic as well as against natural vibrations and those produced by man made implements."  
  
"The Headmaster said that the wards on the school stop such things from leaking out."  
  
He nodded in agreement. "That is why only myself and Albus received the brunt of your actions. As a witch the vibrations you'd produce would just be the more focused equivalent to all those found in nature. Possession words changes, amplifies the power and signature." He paused to breathe, draw out his point and make sure of her attention. "The noise, if you will, leaves the natural realm and enters into the realm where only those with similar power can hear the sound."  
  
She had her lips pursed in thought. It made complete sense, what he was saying, and that left her feeling more than a little foolish. Better that she had made the mistake where it was safe for her to do so, but what sort of commotion had she caused in the forest? In her mind she could still see the moon from that night, see the glimmer of light like liquid on the edges of the Death Eaters mask. When she'd screamed she's lost sight of the moon, the wand, the woman about to kill her. All she'd felt was the presence of the power she'd wanted to kill, her fight instinct pushing her power where rational thought would have stayed her hand.  
  
In the chair opposite, Snape was watching her with calculating black eyes. "There is no doubt that Voldemort saw you when you killed your attacker. Albus knew the minute that Arabella died, but even I could hear your scream of attack."  
  
The irrational desire to cry was hard to squelch, but she managed with only the rigid set of her shoulders giving her unease away. Snape set his untouched tea aside, and spoke to her in a low voice. Later Hermione would wonder if it had truly sounded compassionate, or if in her wound up state she'd imagined it. "You are safe while you are here, Ms. Granger. Voldemort will not attack the school when he escalates his these attacks to the war he wants. You have things that belong to him, things that he will try very hard to retrieve but above all else you are safe here."  
  
Standing, his imposing height dwarfed the sitting girl. It was almost comforting to have him towering over her, a stark reminder that some things never changed. His non-threatening demeanor was the only difference from potions classes past. He dropped a reassuring hand somewhat awkwardly on her shoulder, and spoke in a tired, velvet voice. There was an engaging, serious light in his eyes. "When he attacks it will be in that sorcerous realm, in the ambience that belongs to the words. The battle will be with those who can oppose him there, before this sanctuary will falter and your Mr. Potter is called upon to try his hand at being the savior of the wizarding world."  
  
"I'll be safe here," Hermione managed to mutter, somewhat dumbly. She'd reached the point where her thought process was running to fast to speak out loud. On top of it all, her headache was returning with full force, despite the potion.  
  
Snape could see the furrow of thought in her brow and was not unaffected to see her at a complete loss for words. The flicker of amusement that had threatened his features earlier won over and spread into a grim smile. "You'll be safe from yourself here, just kindly give warning when you decide to magically scream and shout. It would be service to myself as well as Albus, I am sure."  
  
She nodded and watched as he left her quarters, apparently satisfied with the information he'd given her. It was too much information for her to digest, the heavy throb behind her eyes was driving her to distraction and she couldn't find the energy to move from the chair. Settling on laying her head on the arm of the chair, she savored the cool feel of the silk and regarded the full teacup on the desk. Severus Snape was certainly not who she'd thought he was.  
  
Losing the battle for wakefulness to her bodies demands, Hermione fell into a deep sleep curled up in her chair. For once her sleep was blessedly free of dreams.  
  
*** 


	6. Interludes and Worry

Follow My Way  
  
5- Interludes and Worry  
  
***  
  
You're an accident waiting to happen  
  
You're a piece of glass left there on the beach  
  
Well you tell me things I know you're not supposed to  
  
Then you leave me just out of reach -"Who's Going to Ride Your Wild Horses" U2  
  
***  
  
"So I said, 'Listen, mate. Just because your girlfriend would look mankey to mountain troll, doesn't mean you have to ruin a perfectly good game of pool.'" As always Sirius had an easy grin and an unrepentant tone. "So she slapped me and I decided it prudent to leave."  
  
"Sirius," Remus Lupin chided with a patient smile. "That doesn't explain your black eye."  
  
Sirius had the grace to look guilty. In the bright afternoon light his eye was bruised a plumb shade of purple. "Turns out she was part mountain troll on her mums' side, and her slap was much more of a right hook. She was wearing rings, too."  
  
Trying to recover his wounded pride, Sirius shot Remus an indignant pout but it was too late. The werewolf was rolling with laughter, tears of mirth gathering in his amber eyes. The pout deepened to almost comic proportions. "I see nothing funny about this at all."  
  
"No, of course not," Remus said, a smile destroying his attempt at keeping a straight face but failing. "I never thought I'd say this but Snape is right, you have the subtlety of a pack of stampeding elephants."  
  
Affronted, Sirius rose from the grass and glared down at the one person he thought would take pity on him. "The male ego is a fragile thing, Moony. Now I am going to have to nip off to my quarters to have a nice, manly cry."  
  
"Didn't anyone ever tell you that if a boy teases you it's because he liked you," Hermione called out, approaching the two men with mischief in her eyes. She was once again barefoot and in a Muggle sundress, already smatterings of sun freckles were golden across the bridge of her nose.  
  
Bickering forgotten, Remus stood and both he and Sirius hugged her in greeting. Offering her a seat on the grass with a wink, Sirius made sure Hermione was seated before he or Remus sat back down on the thick grass. With a twinkle in his eyes, Sirius said, "Now you can protect me from him."  
  
Remus snorted and turned his face up at the sun, relaxed. It struck Hermione how peaceful he looked in the golden light and how his serene expression made him look much younger. Her thought nagged at her that the sunlight must be such a relief for him from the pressure of the moon.   
  
Turning her attention to Sirius and away from the maudlin, she grinned and tapped his swollen eye gently. "Who was she?"  
  
Remus snorted in a very uncharacteristic way, making Hermione privy to the joke.  
  
Sirius looked mutinous as both his companions laughed at his expense. "I see how it is. I'm somewhat appeased by the fact that you've had the company of that greasy-git thrust upon you as of late. That has to of left some invisible bruises."  
  
Hermione sobered, but didn't lose her smile. The normalcy of Sirius' jibe toward Snape should have been comforting, but it proved to be quite the opposite. "He's been really great, Sirius. Once you get use to his cold manner, he really isn't nearly as bad as I'd thought."  
  
Sirius inclined an eyebrow upward at that and shot Remus a look before smiling impishly at her. Hermione merely rolled her eyes. "He has so much information that I need... don't look at me like the cat that swallowed the canary!"  
  
"More like the busy-body dog who doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut," Remus offered in a deadpan manner. He got a handful of grass thrown at him and a growl for his effort. If Hermione hadn't been present that would have been ground for a good rugby tackle, amongst other things. Since they were not alone he picked the grass out of his hair and kept his neutral look. Sirius would pay later.  
  
"Truth be told I spend most of my time sleeping," Hermione admitted, as though her appearance hadn't given it away. Though she took to the sunlight, there were dark circles under her eyes and a general thinness to her cheeks. Since the dinner for Sprouts birthday she had not attended any group meals in the hall, and other than the day of her chat with Dumbledore she hadn't been seen by anyone in the school.   
  
Sirius leaned back on the grass and gave her the same easy smile that Harry had grown into. "You shouldn't stay all cooped up indoors. It's lovely out, enjoy the summer while you can. Soon enough Dumbledore will give you some task to keep you busy. Look at me. Remus gets appointed back in Defense and returns with me in tow. Within the month Dumbledore has me running errands and Sprout has me helping arrange for fall."  
  
Hermione was cheered by the idea of having a task to keep her busy, but that thought was deflated by the fact that nothing kept her busy anymore. Neither of the men noticed the drop in her expression as Remus had reminded Sirius that his help in the garden was penance for his destruction of a number of flowerbeds as Padfoot. Sirius had gone a shade of Weasley red, something unusual for a man who Hermione had assumed to be on the same level as Seamus 'The Un-botherable' Finnegan. The lecture he was giving in his own defense had taken on a very McGonnagal tone. "Chloe Sprout would not punish me in a such a way. I expected much more from you, Remus J. Lupin. As much as it pains me to say… ten points from Gryffindor."  
  
That last remark had been the last straw and Remus made good on his mental plan to tackle Sirius. Hermione pretended not to notice by looking down at her dirty feet and debating if painting her toenails a nice sienna would be worth the effort. When she looked up again Sirius had grass in his hair and was laughing helplessly as Remus had his elbow in his stomach. Smiling, as though seeing the two men romping like puppies was an every day occurrence, Hermione rose to her feet. "Sirius, don't give poor Remus a hard time."  
  
Sirius laughed, cringing at the pressure in his abdomen and Remus smiled benignly up at her like he wasn't using his bizarre strength to pin someone to the ground and said, "See you at dinner?"  
  
Hermione nodded and with a final smile turned to walk back towards the school. Behind her she could hear Sirius yelping and the sound of Lupins' deep laughter. It brought a wistful smile to her face.  
  
When Hermione was out of sight, Remus ceased his attack to looked down at the man he had pinned to the ground. "You shouldn't tease her, Sirius. She looked like she hadn't seen the sun in far too long."  
  
"Starting to resemble Snape, is she?" Sirius smiled innocently but the effect was lacking due to his battered appearance. All in all he had a rather debauched air about him with the grass in his hair and tousled up face. "I think she fancies him, myself."  
  
"You also think I fancy you, now stop being a prat," Remus shot back with a long suffering sigh. Despite Sirius' habit of speaking before engaging his brain he had to agree, but there was no way he was letting on and giving Sirius the satisfaction.   
  
"That's it, Moony. When we get back I'm defiantly chewing up your slippers."  
  
Leaning down, a wolfish gleam in his eye, Remus grinned. "Padfoot, you don't want to be in the doghouse, do you?"  
  
"Depends," Sirius said, knocking Remus over backwards and pinning him to the grass. "Do I get to come back with my tail between my legs? We do have fantastic makeup sex."   
  
***  
  
Severus Snape was not one to dwell on problems. Despite his affinity for brooding, he generally took care of them and moved on. However, when the problem started to invade his every waking thought as well as his very rare dreams it was a call for action. Voldemort was up to something. Things had been far too quiet for too long. There was no doubt in his mind that all of his energy and attention was at that very moment focused on Hogwarts.  
  
Luckily Granger had heeded all warnings about staying on school grounds. The disaster that Gryffindor disregard would result in would be an unimaginably bad situation. The girl might be a terribly nuisance, but she possessed a quick mind and hardly deserved the mess she had stumbled into. If she ever came into her full potential she would be a force to be reckoned with.  
  
As it were they were holed in, caged like rats in the castle waiting for the ax to fall. They were under siege and though it would take time he knew he would break, the girl sooner if not watched. Despite their combined power it was unsettling to know that the Dark Lord could penetrate his dreams through all the protective wards that surrounded him and every other inhabitant of the castle. As Albus and the girl had failed to mention any new sense of foreboding, he'd wager every galleon that he had that it was due to the blasted mark on his arm. No matter how the Dark Lord had accomplished it, the threat was clear.  
  
The battle would be fought on his time, with his rules. A plan was already underway and unless preventative measures were taken the danger would not only be to Granger, but himself. Their words would be stripped and their death would not be an easy one. Despite the fact that he had resigned himself to a messy fate years ago, it still chilled him to the bone. He has ensured that he deserved such a death, but the girl?  
  
He was getting sentimental in his old age, and he wasn't sure he liked it.  
  
***  
  
Rain was coming, she could smell it in the air and feel the charge of the storm in her blood. Already the temperature had already begun to drop and the slowly setting sun was muted by darkened clouds. Red sky at night, the storm would be gone in time for another beautiful day. Hermione worried her bottom lip between her teeth, suddenly wary of her heightened senses. All at once her fear abated as the leaves began to hiss and every thought was pushed away by the sudden curtain of hazy rain.  
  
Letting her toes flex into the rapidly dampening ground she smiled up into the chilly raindrops. She was getting antsy and the longer she wandered through the familiar castle the worse it got. The whole situation still had a dream like quality, so removed from her previous life and littered with familiar faces who gave the barest hints of knowledge before withdrawing. It wasn't that they were being cruel, more that they didn't know the entire story either and no matter how hard her mind worked she couldn't paint the picture out.   
  
Was she to wait and waste her potential whiling away her days waiting for any task to keep her busy, or were they perched on some precipice waiting for the plunge? She felt like a prat for pouting and worrying instead of looking at things coolly as she once would have. Frustration was making her batty and she did not like it one bit.  
  
Those who were forthcoming with information like Sirius and Remus were just as unaware as she was to whatever was brewing, but she knew there are more by the worry lines on Dumbledores' face and the unease that radiated from Snape. In himself Snape was a puzzle all his own. She'd bet every galleon she possessed that he was working his mind just as hard to find a reason, an answer, an edge, anything to remedy the sticky situation they were in.  
  
Taking the now muddy path up to the castle, heedless of her sodden state, Hermione was surprised to see the man in question standing at the entry of the castle safely out of the rain. Quickening her steps she easily caught his attention.  
  
Snape was scowling by the time she reached him. "I had assumed your senses had been sharpened, not dulled Ms. Granger. Unless your intentions were to catch cold?"  
  
Hermione smiled, crossing her dripping arms over her sodden chest. "Nothing like a storm for the senses, Professor. It just seemed like a good sign, a storm breaking as we all muddle about trying to see how things are going to come together."  
  
"Or further fall apart," he retorted wryly as he moved aside to let her in out of the rain. "I trust you've been using your time wisely these last few days, testing the boundaries of your new power? You'll be pleased to know that you haven't caused any ripples since your foray into warding."  
  
Casting a quick drying charm on herself and propelling her body to follow Snape out of the entry, Hermione nodded in answer. "It's really fantastic once you get the hang of control, I no longer feel the need to be sick whenever I concentrate on something too hard."  
  
"The sickness passes and the horror fades, but do not become to comfortable with the power," Snape said tightly. "To become overconfident would be a mistake."  
  
"It is seductive," Hermione countered, her gaze snagging on his robe covered forearm before locking onto his face. "For a thing whose origins are so cryptic there is no mystery in the exerting of ability, not a swish-and-flick or two stirs counter clockwise in sight."  
  
Snape grunted softly in response but said no more. Taking his silence as the end of conversation, Hermione moved to climb the stairs while Snape lingered at the bottom. She'd reached the fifth step before he spoke, looking up at her with uncharacteristic worry in his eyes. "Have you had any odd dreams of late, Ms. Granger?"  
  
/Steamy dreams about shagging you, Professor, or gut clenching dreams about the rapidly approaching apocalypse?/ Hermione nodded slowly. Leaning into the banister to look down at him properly she smiled distractedly. "You've been in my dreams Professor. Sometimes they're dreadful... and sometimes they're not. The thing that doesn't change is that each morning I wake up knowing that things are getting worse. Do you dream Professor?"  
  
The worry hadn't left his eyes when he spoke. "I have nightmares that Dreamless Sleep can not slay, Ms. Granger. For now they are just nightmares, let us hope that none of them come true."  
  
Hermione smiled softly, worried by the tension he radiated but softened by his admission. When he turned to make his descent into the dungeons her eyes lingered on his path for a moment, some of his worry caught up in the furrow between her brows. Then turning her attention back to the stairs she trudged upward, dirty bare feet against the cold stone.   
  
***  
  
A/N- Hopefully more soon, I know I always say that! 


End file.
